Luckily
by Vodka Martini
Summary: Smut. Plain and simple. No attempt at a story line whatsoever.


PLEASE NOTE: THIS IS SMUT. PLAIN AND SIMPLE. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE EXPECTING A STORY LINE! ;)

Disclaimer: Don't own SG1...if I did it'd still be on and better writers than I would be making this happen.

Colonel Jack O'Neill didn't think it would make one hell of a lot of difference to his arousal, knowing exactly how he had ended up in such a compromising position with Major Carter. It wasn't that he thought knowing would help, but it really just pissed him off that he was completely at a loss to explain it. It couldn't have been anything but a random series of events all coming together, luckily...luckily? What was so damned lucky about it? He angrily disowned that stray thought and ran through the ...incident...again. He'd been leaning back against a cot in the infirmary, reading some report or another which he probably wouldn't have remembered at the best of times, and Sam had been standing in front of him. He remembered he was being particularly obtuse, because even while reading the report, he could easily see her annoyed impatience over the top edge of the folder. He had kept his grin under wraps while he read painfully slowly and asked deliberately stupid questions. Her arms had been crossed, one foot tapping silently on the floor. In all fairness, she'd had to hunt him down to make him read the damned thing, but for whatever reason he'd been in the mood to torture her. But then there'd been some freak accident. The alarm bells were just barely going off when Sam had turned to face the infirmary door, and his hand with the report firmly between his fingers had fallen to his side. Three men and Janet had rushed in carrying a fourth, a young captain, with severe electrical burns. Sam had attempted to step back out of the way, but hadn't quite made it and had been bumped by a corpsman. She'd stumbled backward, and he'd instinctively thrown up his free arm to wrap around her waist, holding her mostly upright. So that is how they'd found themselves with Sam folded forward, her shapely ass pressed into his groin. Which, mortifyingly, had responded quickly and he'd involuntarily pressed forward against her. Which had torn a gasp from her throat. And then, unbelievably, her hips had pressed back against him too.

Luckily, (actually luckily, Jack thought), the infirmary had been far too hectic for anyone to pay any attention to the rather strange fumble of two SG1 members. Or to the furious blush that had spread across Sam's cheeks as she'd straightened, turned, mumbled...something...and booked it back to her lab. Leaving her report behind. Luckily, again, because Jack had actually strategically placed that particular folder in order to retain a tiny shred of dignity while making his way through the SGC to the locker room. Where he currently found himself. Standing under the spray of the cold water. Counteracting its intended effect quite effectively by reliving those few moments over and over while he considered how the universe had conspired to put them in that position. Didn't the apparently cruel universe already know how much she turned him on? Didn't it realize that's why he spent, like, _all_ of his time watching her? Why he would picture her reactions to things when she wasn't even there? Why she was the last thing he thought about when...damn it! Too sappy. Goddamnmotherfucking universe. Or fate. Or God. Or, like, whoever. _Jeebus_, his Simpsons-saturated brain supplied. Oookay. Jeebus had evidently decided he needed a tactile memory of the feel of her pressed against him to add to all those fantasies he had about her.

He sighed, suddenly tired, as he stepped out of the shower and found his towel. He dried off and pulled his BDUs back on. He might be able to hide his physical reaction to the memory by dousing it in cold water, but unless he was willing to stand under that freezing tap for the rest of his life, he was going to have to figure out how to stop thinking about this.

* * *

><p>Sam shifted uncomfortably in her seat again, not really enjoying the feel of her soaked panties against skin that was in denial. Or at least, the brain was in denial. The skin was more in...rebellion...against the brain. It was a traitor, actually. It was also really craving some more of the delicious friction it had experienced earlier when she'd found herself grinding her hips back against Jack, whose body was also rather obviously betraying him. *<em>Colonel O'Neill!* <em>she chided herself. What the hell did her arousal have to do with his name anyway? Luckily, she'd been able to get out of there before anything else had happened. *_Luckily?* _she snorted. Hell, she wished he'd ridden her into oblivion right there in the infirmary, because she was pretty sure it would have been preferable to the unbelievable lust she'd been living with since. She'd always wanted him. Actually ALWAYS. Ever since her nature had taken his chauvinistic attitude in the briefing room that first morning as a challenge that he was issuing to her; daring her to live up to it. Something about that cocky bastard had made her want to strip him, lay him down on the table, and ride the snide comments right out of his vocabulary right there and then. Of course, other feelings had quickly joined the physical attraction to Jack. *_COLONEL O'NEILL!* _she almost growled the correction out loud.

Luckily, fixing the unexpected electrical surges had given her something to do to take her mind off of him for a while. But that had taken not at all long enough. And really, it had only forced her to walk gingerly and hide the fact that she was dripping down her own thighs. *_You have got to be kidding me* _ she complained inwardly. She was acting like some teenager in heat. You'd think that Jack..._fuck correcting herself, looked like that was a lost cause today_...had spent all morning building this delicious, torturous fire in her body, instead of instigating this intense arousal through only a brief moment of forbidden contact. And, luckily for him, he could just go find some privacy, jack off, and be back to his normal cocky self. She'd been planning on staying and getting some work done tonight, but that plan was out the window and replaced by anxiously waiting until she could head home and spend some quality time with her vibrator.

She started as she heard a tentative knock at her door of her lab, but she was more startled to realize she'd been rubbing herself through her pants. Mortified, she brushed at her uniform and invited her visitor in, noticing too late that her desk was suspiciously empty.

"Working hard Carter?" came Jack's (_oh for crying out loud! The Colonel's_) voice, sounding deeper and rougher than usual, complete with a raised eyebrow. She watched, entranced, as he licked his lips nervously.

Jack shifted his weight uncomfortably as he saw Carter, looking slightly disheveled, and not at all as though she was going to answer him. She was staring at him with a peculiar expression on her face, but hell if he was going to try to decipher it.

"Sam?" he prodded, and he actually saw her close her eyes and bite her lower lip at the sound of her name rolling off his lips. "Are you...um..." he abandoned his lame enquiry, wondering whether or not he should pretend the infirmary never happened. He'd decided they needed to get any awkwardness out of the way before their scheduled off-world mission the next morning. But he had been expecting to face a slightly embarrassed but much more rational Carter than he currently found before him.

"Tell me you're here to bend me over something," she moaned softly, staring at him with lust-darkened eyes, challenging him to deny her. As if he bloody well could! Suddenly, as though she had just realized she wasn't dreaming, she started and flushed a brilliant scarlet. "Oh my God, Colonel, I...I'm so..." mortified, was the word, and she quickly turned away in horror over what had just escaped her mouth.

"Horny?" he supplied throatily, his lips suddenly pressed against her neck as he encircled her waist lightly with one arm, the warmth of his chest pressed against her back spreading through her deliciously. She felt her body respond in hearty agreement as she arched against him, feeling the familiar pressure of his arousal against the swell of her ass.

"Oh my god, Jack," she moaned, this time expressing need instead of embarrassment. He felt a shudder roll through him when he realized she was even more worked up than him, and they'd barely even touched. Like, ever.

"Carter" he growled into her ear. He'd meant to ask her if they were all good. That question had just been wiped clear off the table. Then he meant to ask her if she wanted to do this, if she understood the potential repercussions, if they could live with opening that proverbial can of worms. Instead, he found himself tugging at her t-shirt until the hem pulled free of its proper place tucked into her fatigues. He slid his hand upward across the soft expanse of skin of her abdomen that had previously been restricted to his fantasies.

"Mmmm," Sam sighed, leaning back into him and closing her eyes as she felt the rough calluses of Jack's fingers provide the perfect counterpoint to the persistent warmth spreading through her in anticipation of...whatever might come next.

"You know," he started, pressing kisses along her jaw line with each word, "you usually have a much more impressive vocabulary." He sucked and tongued her neck, adding his second hand to the game by running it lightly up her side and caressing her breast through her shirt and bra. She moaned, but did not respond. "Do you think this might be, ya know, a really stupid idea?"

"Mhmm," she answered noncommittally, more because she knew he'd been expecting an answer than anything else. When he softly kneaded her breast in his hand she let her head fall back against his shoulder and she pushed her ass back to grind further against his evident arousal. She wanted him to need this as much as she did.

"Sam," he hissed at the contact, not unwelcome, but he wanted to make sure she was in her right mind before he did anything foolish...er. He felt her stiffen and worried about her reaction before he realized she was only forcing herself to focus.

"Yes, Jack, horny as hell. And maybe this is a stupid idea, but I don't care. I've never needed anything more in my entire life," she answered, her voice husky. She'd half-turned to look at him, but he was pretty sure she was serious about the whole being bent over something thing, because she wasn't making any kind of attempt to fully face him. Luckily, her desk was right there and conveniently empty. "So if you're going to stop, you'd better do it now because if you start again I'm not guaranteeing any more coherent thoughts."

"That's my girl," he cockily praised her ability to actually form sentences before tightening his hold on her and resuming his actions. He made quick work of her belt, button and zipper, which was luckily easier from behind than it would have been facing her. Luckily, really, because he doubted he could have pulled it off. Her comment about not ever needing anything so badly had shot straight to two places: his ego, and his cock. And the latter was throbbing rather insistently at the proximity, especially given her reaction to him so far. It was very un-Carter-like, in fact, and he took a moment to warn the Gods, or whoever, that he was going to be royally pissed if this turned out to be a wet dream. Then his fingers brushed through her warm, soaking wet folds, and he decided to stop thinking.

Sam let out a groan and pushed against his fingers, trying to force more contact. She needed more; she needed him, so badly it was making her dizzy. She was sure there must be some pretty strange virus going around the SGC to make them need each other this much from their brief touch in the infirmary, but if it made him touch her this way she was equally sure she didn't care. Although mostly she wished he would just get on with it. If she didn't get some relief soon, she was going to be seriously crazy. She couldn't reach his pants, and she couldn't get her thoughts organized enough to tell him what she wanted, so instead she leaned forward and planted one hand on the desk in front of her, showing him how she wanted it. And with her other hand she began insistently pushing her BDU pants down over her slender hips. She cried out softly in disappointment when she felt his hands leave her, but then realized he must have taken the hint because she heard the telltale sounds of him unfastening his belt and letting his own pants slide to the floor.

Jack finally managed to free himself from his pants and boxers and refocused his attention where it damn well should be. He shuddered when he noticed the wet streaks down the inside of her thighs, not to mention the black lace thong that she had left for him to remove. He grinned wickedly and kneeled down, tracing the trail of moisture up the inside of one thigh with his tongue. Sam gasped at the unexpected contact, falling forward to place her other hand firmly on the desk, needing the extra support to remain more or less upright. His tongue made it nearly to her panties before leaving her skin and beginning the slow journey up the inside of her other thigh. He thought he might explode hearing her soft moans, and the smell of her arousal making his already painful erection that much stronger. Still, he'd always dreamed of torturing her this way, and he'd be damned if her let the opportunity escape him now. He slowly eased her thong down her long, silky legs, stroking her smooth skin as he went.

Sam's legs were trembling as Jack slid her panties down them, and she silently cursed the Colonel's obvious desire to torture her before he gave her what she needed. The curse was cut short, however, by her sharp gasp when she felt his tongue give her a long, slow, firm lick through her folds.

"Mmm," he murmured, "Do you like that?"

"Please," she moaned softly, watching her knuckles go white as her fingertips pressed into the desktop.

"Please what?" he questioned, waiting until she started to answer before licking her again.

"Just...ohhhh God," she moaned, her request temporarily cut off by his tongue. She would have to remember to forgive any future uselessness with words, because his tongue more than made up for it in other areas. "Please just...mmgh...ohh, Jack." She couldn't even manage a full sentence. He was doing it on purpose! She tried to push his tongue out of her mind and focus on telling him what she needed, but instead she found her body betraying her once more as she bent lower and slightly spread her legs to give him better access. She trembled as he licked and sucked her engorged flesh, and the noises escaping her were nowhere near the words she was trying to express. When he sucked her clit into his mouth she hissed and reached up to play with her own breast in her desperation for relief. She felt her internal muscles start to tighten and knew she was getting closer to orgasm, when suddenly his lips and tongue abandoned her and she mewled in protest.

"Were you going to ask me something?" he questioned, and she heard the devilish smile on his lips.

"Fuck me, Jack," she growled. It was a demand, not a question, but he'd take it. He stood up and with one hand on her back pushed her slightly lower over the desktop, while the other hand took his straining erection. He paused for a moment to appreciate the view of Sam bent over, open before him, before he stepped right up close behind her, grinding his groin into her shapely ass not unlike the position they'd found themselves in only hours before in the infirmary. Sam hissed at the contact and, as before, pressed backward into him. He rubbed the head of his penis through her swollen, aching folds and she let out a combination of a moan and a growl. With the sound, Jack couldn't take it anymore. He positioned himself at her entrance and thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt in one movement.

"Ohh God, yes!" Sam cried out, one step closer to her release. He was big, stretching her and pressing everywhere at once and she'd never felt anything so glorious in all her life. Jack slowly pulled entirely out of her, leaving her gasping at the abyss between her thighs, and then thrust back into her forcefully, tearing another cry from her throat. Jack savored the sound, but he knew that too many more thrusts like that and he would be embarrassed, and she disappointed. So he began to thrust into her in earnest, setting a steady pace and tearing moans and gasps from her throat every time he brushed against her g-spot and bumped her cervix.

Sam was certain she might die, she was feeling so much pleasure. She didn't know enough about medicine to know if her brain could actually overload with the incredible sensations he was drawing from her, but if it could, hers was about to. He was so deep, and so big, and the angle was divine. If only he'd speed up, it'd be perfect. He sped up his thrusts slightly and she began pressing back against him, forcing him impossibly deeper with every thrust. He grunted in response and she felt a jolt of pride at making him feel as desperate as she was. She squeezed her internal muscles once tightly around him.

"Fuck, Sam," he grunted at the feel of her tightening. He guessed it was payback for bringing her to the edge and then denying her orgasm before, but he would never admit that he deserved it. He sped up his thrusts, her panted moans getting louder with every impact, her strangled cries punctuating his increasing rhythm.

"God! Jack, YES! More..." she was writhing beneath him, her upper body pressed against the desktop since her arms had lost the ability to hold her up against his onslaught. Nearing the edge himself, he obliged her and picked up the pace, slamming into her relentlessly. He felt his own orgasm building and he reached around and found Sam's clit, pressing his fingers into the bundle of nerves, pinching and rubbing.

Sam suddenly felt all of her nerves and muscles tighten around Jack's cock, and his fingers on her clit brought her right to the edge. She felt herself right at the peak of pleasure for a heartbeat before everything in her released and she went plummeting over the edge. Her body shook and her muscles spasmed and Jack continued to thrust and rub and ride out her orgasm as she screamed his name. He followed her right off the edge and breathed her name as he too felt his orgasm wash over him and he emptied himself inside of her.

Sam felt like she was about to pass out, and he must of read her mind because he angled them both back toward her desk chair and he collapsed into it, arms wrapped firmly around her as she landed in his lap. He rested his chin against her shoulder and she angled her head to rest against his. The soft silence was full of so many unspoken emotions.

"Wow," she finally breathed, her soft breath falling against his skin and ruffling the hair at his temple.

"You're not kidding," he said softly. "Where did that come from?"

"Hmm," she responded in her best scientific-analysis tone, "I would say it came from a combination of years of suppressed lust, and deeply buried emotions." He chucked, and she felt his warm breath against her neck. He straightened and pulled away enough to look at her, and he tucked a stray strand of hair back into place. She studied his face as well, wanting to cement the memory of this moment in her mind.

"We should get dressed," he suggested, but he leaned back against the back of the chair and she followed suit, resting against his chest.

"Mhmm," she conceded, knowing it was probably a good idea, given the rather limited privacy of her office.

But neither of them moved. Both were thinking about how once they got up, they would have to talk about this. There would be discussions on where, if anywhere, this could go. Over breaking the rules, sneaking around, one or the other of them leaving the Air Force. They would be forced to decide whether to address their feelings, or bury them again. All of the deliberations seemed like a daunting task ahead. Luckily, neither of them seemed particularly inclined to move.

A/N: Thanks guys. Comments/Reviews/Requests welcome and appreciated! Sarah


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